Spring Came
by emerald isle
Summary: He was a fool, an ignorant, idiotic fool. Ginny didn’t need him. She had many others to make her happy. He realized why she had stayed with him all this time: because HE needed HER.' What happens when a Slytherin tries to act like a Gryffindor? DG RHr H?
1. The Wonder of Birth

Draco was pacing like a caged lion, his eyes over bright and fevered. A thin sheen of sweat stood out on his high forehead, and he hadn't spoken in over an hour.

Blaise, on the other hand, sat sprawled and relaxed on a cushioned chair before the roaring fire. "Yolanda," he was saying. Draco didn't acknowledge him. "Zara? Zinniah? Zora?" he tried.

Draco continued to pace.

"Maybe I skipped one," Blaise muttered. "Aaliyah? Abitha? Adrienne?"

A vein was pulsing in Draco's already tight jaw.

"Alexis? Alena?"

Draco exploded. "Fore Merlin's sake, Blaise! It's a boy!"

Blaise was unperturbed. "Not according to Ginny, and I'd believe her over you any day."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. FINE. Think what you want – just not out loud." He went back to his pacing, twice as fast as before.

Blaise was silent for a moment. Draco's anxious breathing and heavy footfalls sounded over the popping of the fire. Then Blaise opened his mouth once more. "Alice?"

Draco whirled, ready to throttle his smirking friend, when a new sound carried into the room.

Wailing.

Draco froze in his tracks; even Blaise held his breath. Then, like quicksilver, they were racing across the study, knocking chairs aside to reach the heavy wooden doors which lead t the bedroom.

The doors burst open with Draco a millisecond ahead of Blaise. They both halted in their tracks for a second time at the sight before their eyes.

Buried among a mountain of feather-soft pillows and vastly thick bedclothes lay Ginny. Her burgundy hair fell loose and wild around her, some party heavy with perspiration. Her forehead was creased with weariness and strain, but the look in her eyes was one of such joy and amazement that Draco's heart sang. His eyes fell from her beaming face to her arms, which cradled a tiny bundle of forest green quilting.

"So," Draco heard Blaise mumur over his right shoulder. "Do I get fifty galleons or don't I?"

Ginny's grin widened, if that were physically possible. "Come here, Draco," she said simply.

Somehow his feet carried him to her side – his brain was too numb to direct them. "Ginny –" he heard himself whisper.

"Shh," she said to him. "Don't say a word. You don't have to." Her smile made his stomach flip. "Just hold her."

His heart stopped. "Her?" To his mortification, his voice squeaked.

Ginny laughed, and it was like honey on his lips. Draco found himself smiling weakly in return, his blood pounding in his veins.

Draco didn't hear Blaise's cry of, "Ha! I told you so!" He was oblivious to the "You must be so proud" of the midwife of the shining smile of the house elf.

He only had eyes for his daughter's face and ears for her gurgling of contentment.

Her head was pale and hairless (Draco was instantly reminded of a turnip – but it had to be the most beautiful turnip the world had ever seen.) Her eyes were palest blue, like all babies at birth, but they held a sort of wisdom that Draco could never understand. His knees were quivering like jelly, but somehow his hands held her aloft on their own. As he stared, wide-eyed, his ears began to work again, and he realized she was no longer crying.

"She… she _likes_ me," he said, his voice clearly awestruck.

Ginny's bell-like laughter rang in his ears. "She loves you."

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

"I think she gets it from her mother," Ginny said slyly, smirking.

"I should never have taught you to smirk like that," he replied, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

Blaise had crossed the room and he stood over Draco's shoulder once more. For the first time in what must have been many years, Blaise could think of nothing to say. He merely stared. Finally, he murmured, "I won the bet. Fifty galleons, mate."

Draco couldn't find it in him to look sullen with his daughter held so close to his heart. "Fine," he said simply. "It's a good thing you won, because… because I wouldn't have her any other way."

He met Ginny's eyes, and they shone so brilliant that he couldn't help himself – his features broke into a wide, soaring smile.

And in that moment, Draco's world was perfect in every way.

-&-


	2. Dead Grass of Winter

_Chapter Two: Dead Grass of Winter_

Molly wearily pushed a stray curl from her eyes, flicking her wand absently. Soapy, hot water spouted from its tip and poured onto the dirty dishes in the washbasin. A second flick of the wooden device sent the scrub brush to work, and she turned aside from cleaning with relief.

Laughter drifted into the kitchen from the backyard, and Molly smiled to herself. It was the first time in the past three years that she had heard Harry express real happiness. Her motherly instincts made his pain almost harder to bear than her own. Hearing his laughter again and seeing him in the house he had tried so hard to avoid since graduation made Molly's heart fill with the first relief she'd felt in ages. Having him with the family again was a welcome reminder of more carefree days.

Still, something was missing. Someone, rather. And they all knew it.

Molly sighed and forced a smile to her features as she moved from the kitchen to the backyard, where Ron, Harry, and Arthur sat talking.

Before she reached the backyard, the laughter died abruptly. Wondering what was wrong, Molly quickened her pace, rushing to the table.

The three men were tight-jawed and silent, staring at the table. Molly's eyes fell from their faces to the tablecloth, and the sight awaiting her made her heartbeat quicken.

A tawny owl, small and swift in flight, sat with thick parchment clasped in its beak. Tiny, curly writing was clearly visible on the letter, and stamped beneath the font was a dark green wax seal: a capital M, encircled by a snake.

Molly would know that seal anywhere.

Before anyone could move, she dove for the letter. A glance at the writing confirmed her suspicions. She would not, to her dying day, forget the way Ginny's tiny cursive looked.

Involuntarily, she glanced at Harry, who had recognized the writing also. He was scowling darkly, his brow creased with anger. His eyes had blackened as he glanced at the parchment. If his look grew any more intense, Molly feared the letter would catch fire.

She forced a laugh, and it sounded tinny and hollow to her own ears. "This must be some sort of mistake," she heard herself say flippantly. Then, as if she had lost control over her own fingers, she watched as she raised her wand to the corner of the paper and lit it on fire.

Ron let out a muffled sound, as if he were yelling with a sock in his mouth, but a look from his mother silenced him. He squirmed uncomfortably as the first news he'd had from his sister in two years fell to ask before his eyes.

Molly kicked the last ashes into the grass when it had ended. "Who wants dessert?" she asked, a sugary smile covering her fierce desire to cry. Then she bustled off, and when she reached the kitchen, she allowed a few tears to fall. Keeping them as her secret was a sort of comfort to her broken heart.

She returned minutes later with a suspicious sniffle and four plates of apple pie.

She did not hear Harry laugh again that night.

-&-


	3. Soon to be Tulips

_Soon to be Tulips_

"Should I start with A again?" asked Blaise.

"No," Draco replied quickly. He hadn't moved from Ginny's side in a couple of hours; their daughter, still unnamed, was in his arms, sucking her thumb.

"I rather liked Camille," Ginny said, pinching the baby's tiny toes in her forefinger and thumb.

Draco considered it a moment, but shook his head. "There has never been a Camille Malfoy."

Blaise rolled hi eyes. "You can't be serious, Draco. Would you rather name her Clytemnestra?"

Draco looked defensive. 'Some Malfoys had good names."

"Such as?" Ginny asked playfully, not disguising her doubt.

Draco was silent for too long.

"I rest my case," said Blaise, looking smug.

Draco pouted. "Fine. She can have an original name. But not Camille."

Ginny looked disappointed, but then she brightened. "Jane?"

Draco stuck his tongue out in distaste. It was such an un-Draco-like expression that Ginny had to giggle.

Blaise had a pensive look on his dark features when he mused, "Where had I left off?'

"Oh, Merlin…" Draco mumbled.

"I think it was the A's," Blaise continued. "Hmm… A… A…"

"Alexa? Abigail?" Ginny tried.

Blaise shook his head. "Nah. It was more like… like…"

"Alice."

Blaise and Ginny both swirled to stare at Draco.

"Yes! Alice" Blaise looked triumphant.

Ginny grinned. "Alice. I like that. Alice Malfoy…"

Dracp was silent for so long that Ginny suspected he would veto the idea. Both she and Baise watched him, anticipation in their eyes. Then he opened his mouth and corrected, "Alice _Elena _Malfoy."

-&-


	4. Look and Wonder

_Look – and Wonder_

It was Ginny's turn to pace about the room. She whirled so fast that her mane of red hair flew behind her, and poor Alice mumbled her dissent from her position in Ginny's arms.

"They still haven't written back," she muttered, her eyes fiery with frustration. "Do you think Mercury lost the letter?"

Draco shook his head. "He returned without it. He wouldn't have come back until it had been delivered." Draco didn't like cutting his young wife's hopes apart, but he had to be honest. "He's too well trained for that."

Ginny growled in agitation. Alice was startled into silence. "But it's been over a week, Draco! Why haven't they answered?" She turned wide eyes on her husband, and they were over bright. "Don't they care?" she whispered helplessly.

Draco crossed the room quickly. He could not answer her questions, but he knew hot to comfort her. He did not waste a second in pulling her into his arms.

Alice squawked her approval. Ginny sighed, clutching her daughter to her heart and leaning into Draco's warmth.

"I'm sorry," Draco offered, resting his chin on her head. "I love you."

Ginny looked up at him and managed a watery but genuine smile. "I love you, too. Always."

Just then, the embrace was interrupted by the echo of a knock at the main doors of Malfoy Manor. Magically amplified to be heard in every room, the three booming beats sent Ginny's head shooting up.

Draco saw the tremendous hope in her eyes and could not find it in his heart to dash it. He was certain, however, that her parents hadn't come to visit. After all, Ginny had inherited her infamous stubbornness from _somewhere._

"Alice, stay with Draco," Ginny said softly, handing her daughter over to him. The baby blinked her pale eyes, but did not protest.

Them, before Draco could stop her, Ginny was sprinting down the grand staircase to the front hall.

"Be careful!" he shouted after her, but she did not slow her footsteps.

Ginny beat a house elf to the door and flung it open, hoping beyond hope that she would see someone – anyone – from her family across the threshold.

Warm but anxious blue eyes met her worried brown ones. They locked gazed for a full moment before either person moved. Then, with a yelp of glee, Ginny dove at her brother.

"Ron!" she squealed. She jumped onto him, hugging him with pure relief.

He laughed nervously, patting her on the back an awkward smile. "Hey, Gin…" His voice trailed off.

She stepped back, looking hopefully over his shoulder. "Where's Mum? Didn't she want to see Alive/"

Ron blinked at her. "Alive…?"

Ginny froze. "Didn't you get our letter?"

Ron's gaze dropped to his feet and he shifted them in discomfort. "Mumblebumble," he said in a muffled voice.

"What?"

Ron was silent.

"Ron…!"

Ron sighed. "Mum… burnt it."

Ginny's eyes flew wide. "… what?"

"I'm so sorry, Gin. Harry was there! She- she had no choice…"

Angry tears of bitter pain and betrayal sprang to Ginny's eyes. "No choice! Ron… _she's my mother!_ She's…" She felt her knees give out and she sank to the floor.

Ron knelt hastily at her side. "Ginny! Are you all right?"

"She's my mother," Ginny whispered, tears slipping over her lips and off her quivering chin.

Ron eclipsed her in a warm embrace. "Merlin, I know. I'm so sorry, Gin." He felt the hotness of her tears falling on his shoulder and his heart nearly broke in half.

"More bad new?" Draco's voice carried over to them from where he stood and the case of the staircase. He crossed to his wife's side. 'I hadn't thought it possible."

Ron looked up with his mouth open, ready to reply, but the sight of his brother-in-law stopped his short. Draco was not standing alone; a pale, turnip-shaped something was visible among a cradle of blankets in his arms.

Ginny felt her brother's arms stiffen around her and she glanced up, surprised. The sight of her husband and daughter confirmed her fears. _So now Ron knows,_ she thought simply. And then she felt her pain subside and fiery anger – the kind of anger her husband had learned to avoid at all costs – replace it.

"Ron," she said, her voice full of the all the passion and determination of a proud mother, "Meet Alice Elena Malfoy..."

His eyes widened as she stood and leaned against Draco.

"…our daughter."

-&-


	5. Blood Edged Spears

_Chapter Five: Blood-Edged Spears_

Ron didn't move.

"What!" he squeaked finally, sounding more like his mother than himself.

"This is Alice, your niece," Ginny repeated, her eyes fierce with rebellion.

Ron blinked. "Please tell me your joking." He sounded as if he were begging for his life.

Draco sneered. "Oh, Merlin – you called us on it, Weasley. I knew we should have used a more realistic _doll_!"

Just then, the "doll" gurgled contentedly, grabbing a chunk of her father's hair and tugging.

"Ow!" Draco said, but he laughed. "Feisty little devil." He glanced up at Reno. "She gets it from your side."

Ginny smacked him playfully on the arm.

Ron could not believe what he was witnessing. His sister – _his baby sister ­_– stood before him with a child in her arms. She was a _mother._ He was an _uncle._

"Bloody hell," said Ron.

Ginny looked him square in the eyes as if challenging him to yell and rage at her.

For a long time, he said nothing, barely moving. Then, as slowly as an old man, he stood. He took three excruciating steps until he stood before Draco. Then he lifted a tentative, shaking hand and placed it carefully on his niece's head, as delicately as if he expected her to shatter to pieces.

"Alice," he whispered, and Ginny felt her daring gaze relax into a smile.

-&-

"Thank you, Ebby," Ginny said sincerely to the house elf serving tea. The elf bowed and scampered away, leaving steaming scones and a tense silence in her wake.

"So," Ginny began, looking hopefully at Ron. "How are Mum and Dad?"

Ron coughed, shuffling his feet below the table. "They're… they're fine, I guess. Healthy."

"Good," Ginny replied, her voice very small. Her face had fallen into disappointment; she had obviously been hoping for a bit of news, a hint of forgiveness… anything.

Draco couldn't bear to listen much longer. The pain in his wife's eyes struck to his very core.

Suddenly, he cracked.

"So Potter's off corrupting her parents now, too?"

"Draco," Ginny warned, but he was too busy fuming at Ron to listen.

"She's your sister, for Merlin's sake! She's got your blood – your temper – your bloody freckles!" Draco was pointing at Ginny, his eyes burning guilt into Ron's conscience. "She's more perfect than any other Weasley will ever be, and you _still_ refuse to love her like your should! And all –" he choked on his words, his voice bitter "- and all because of me."

Ginny and Ron replied simultaneously, each as heated as the other.

"If my parents insist on being idiots," Ginny spat angrily, "it's their problem, not yours."

"We _do _love Ginny," Ron commented. "It's just…"

Ginny's words touched Draco's heart, but his angry head had other ideas. "It's just _me_ you don't like, right?" he snapped at Ron.

Ron's silence in answer to Draco's demand said more than words ever could.

"Ron!" Ginny shouted, looking offended. "Ron, Draco is –"

"Horrible," Draco interrupted. Ginny's gaze snapped to him, bewildered. "Evil. Vile." His pale features were contorted into a look of complete self-loathing. "Too imperfect for Ginevra Weasley."

He stood up so quickly that his chair crashed to the floor behind him. Ginny winced, her eyes wide with disbelief, as Draco marched across the room and pounded his way through the door. It slammed with a bang at his back.

The silence he left behind held only confusion and pain.

-&-


	6. Lines Blur and Soften

_Chapter Six: Lines Blur and Soften_

Ron was afraid to break the tense quietness. His sister's forehead was creased with confusion, and the hurt in her eyes was easily visible from across the table.

As Ron watches his sister, the truths of the past three years became known to him. She looked nearly as pained and stressed as she had in the weeks preceding her fateful bonding with Draco in her sixth year. Guilt lashed through Ron at the sight of her sorrowful face. _It's because of us_, he thought bitterly. _We've done this to her… we who claim to love her more than anyone…_

Ron knew that he didn't have to include himself in the 'we,' because technically he had accepted Ginny's choice of boyfriend from the beginning. Granted, he wasn't pleased at first… but his love for his littlest sibling far outweighed his hatred for Draco – or anyone, for that matter. If anything were to be said of Ron, it would be that he hid his soft-heartedness with a clueless, blunt exterior. Ron was not a hater. He was stubborn, he was impassioned, he was proud… but he loved hard, and he loved often. His love made him who he was.

He had a full heart, but seeing Ginny in such a state nearly broke it.

Finally, Ron woke from his reverie. "Ginny, I –"

Just as her husband had, she stood up sharply. "I need to go check on Alice."

Ron frowned. "No! Gin, please, I can ex –"

But her footsteps clicked across the floor, and then Ron was alone.

-&-

Ginny's head was spinning as she hurried blindly down a hallway. Sitting there with Ron nearly suffocated her; escaping, however, did not help – it merely left her to her chaotic thoughts.

_Draco blames himself_, she thought, and her own guilt rose to the surface of her soul. _He blames himself for **my** pain and **my** problems._

_And you let him,_ said that nasty little voice she preferred not to listen to.

_How could I? _She thought, angry with herself for letting him leave the room. _How could I let him think such lies about himself?_

Ginny scowled, feeling her remorse deepen. _Draco is the best thing that ever happened to me,_ she thought, pushing her way through a set of doors leading down into the lower levels of the manor. _He… completes me._

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she paid no attention to where she was wandering. She came upon a heavy door made of thick, frosted steel, but instead of stopping, she clasped the finely wrought handle and shoved. It slid open with surprising ease and Ginny continued through it, letting it click shut behind her.

_What can I do to heal his broken conscience? _She asked herself desperately. _I owe it to him; I have to ease his guilty mind. _She sighed heavily. _And perhaps in doing so… I could help myself to accept the loss of my family._

Suddenly Ginny paused mid-step, frozen – quite literally – in place. The air had turned thin and cold as ice; her breath formed clouds of vapor before her lips. She felt a shiver of panic run down her spine as the freezing air pushed itself against her skin.

Hugging her arms to her chest to warm them, Ginny squinted at the surrounding walls. They were built of white stone, much paler than the dark gray blocks present in the rest of the manor. The room was square, probably a few meters to each side. Hanging on the wall before Ginny's eyes was a blue-flamed torch; it cast weak, flickering light across her face, emphasizing the tired hollows beneath her eyes and the worry lines in her forehead. The shadows of the room lurked between each wisp of fire.

A second inspection of the walls revealed that there was no other door, so Ginny turned to hurry back the way she had come, desperate to escape from the scant air and the bitter temperature.

Upon turning, however, she realized that the door had vanished.

-&-


	7. The Cold, Wintry Orb

_Chapter Seven: The Cold Wintry Orb_

Draco knew exactly what Ginny would say if she knew what he was planning to do. She would look him in the eye fiercely and demand that he come to his senses. She would probably top off her passionate words with an equally passionate slap to his face.

But Draco's mind was made up. Never before in his life had he been so sure of his own beliefs; it was such an odd feeling for him, in fact, that he was frightened by its power, though he would never admit his fear, not even to himself. Draco Malfoy and certainty did _not _mix; at least, they hadn't until he met Ginny Weasley. Now, however, he had never been more certain that Ginny came before everything else, even – no, _especially – _himself. She deserved a wonderful, joyous, perfect life.

Having him was only making her miserable.

-&-

"Draco!" Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs for the hundredth time. She noticed with shame that there was a note of panic in her voice, but she was too afraid to care.

Her lips were pale blue at the edges and her skin had lightened to ghostly white. Her fingers and toes had long ago lost all feeling; she paced anxiously around the tiny space to keep her legs from doing the same.

"Aargh!" she shouted in frustration, beating a fist against the wall across from the torch, which she knew must hold the camouflaged door. "Draco! Ron! _Anyone, _please!"

But of course, also for the hundredth time, there was no answer. Ginny waited five minutes, counting under her breath, hoping…

No one came. She was alone. She was trapped in her very own home without a wand or any other tools, and she was going to die there. She would freeze or starve… and Draco would never know what had happened. He might die as an old man thinking she had left him, and Ginny could not bear the thought.

At that moment, Ginny broke down completely. She sank to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

-&-

Ron paced bitterly around the room, unaware of his sister's plight far below him. Every few lengths he would pause and take a sip of cold tea; it was more to take his mind off his thoughts than anything. It tasted dull in his mouth, as if he were sipping from a cup of dust.

Ron stopped sharply as the door swung open, a look of hope spreading across his freckled, but his face fell when he realized it was only Ebby, coming to clean up the tea things.

Ron nearly went back to pacing, but halted himself as a thought sprang into his head. _Why am I waiting for Ginny to come to me? _He thought. _Why, when I'm perfectly capable of going to her?_

Deep drown, he knew why: he was ashamed of his family's prejudice; he could not defend them to her, not when they put her through such pain because of their stereotypes.

However, Ron knew he had to swallow his pride and approach her, even if it meant eventually admitting that their parents were wrong.

"Ebby," Ron said quickly, reaching out a hand toward the already disappearing elf.

The house elf paused, spun around, and peered at Ron with surprise over the tray of cups and saucers. "Yes, sir?'

"Where is Alice's room?"

"Right up the Grand Staircase, sir; second door to the left."

"Thank you!" Ron shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted out the door and toward the staircase.

-&-

After several minutes of sobbing like a madwoman, Ginny realized there was another sound echoing through the room.

Laughter.

Ginny forced herself to look up from her frozen hands. Her sobs diminished into silent tears as she looked for the owner of the bell-like giggles.

What she saw nearly made her heart stop.

The first thing that met her eyes was a full skirt of purest silver. It took Ginny a moment to realize that not only could she see _through_ the fabric; the skirt, and the slipper-clad feet dangling from beneath it, were floating in midair.

Ginny gasped, her woe-begotten tears forgotten for the moment.

The ghost-girl stopped laughing abruptly. 'What?" she asked, and her voice was like hard steel. "Never seen a dead witch before?"

"Please," Ginny choked, "Please, can you tell me how to get out of here?'

The girl burst out laughing again, and Ginny realized her mistake. She had assumed this ghost was kid – or at least half-decent – but judging by the glaring look on her face, Ginny discovered she was wrong.

The girl was really more of a young woman – probably around Ginny's age – and obviously not from modern times. Her robes looked to date back to the Victorian Age; they were long-sleeved with lace cuffs, and the bodice was close-fitting and adorned with ribbons. Her skirt flared out like a bell, and her dark hair was swept up into a twist of soft curls.

Looking closer, Ginny realized with a start that the bejeweled hilt of a tiny dagger was protruding from her ribcage.

The girl spoke and Ginny's eyes snapped back to her face.

"I suppose I _could_ tell you how to escape…" she purred, and for a moment Ginny's heart lifted, "… but why would I help a dirty little thief?"

Ginny's eyebrows shot up, and she was so surprised that she hiccupped softly. "Thief? I'm no thief."

The girl's lip curled doubtfully. "That explains why I've caught you in the best-guarded vault in Malfoy Manor."

-&-


	8. Flinging Song of Warblers

At first Ginny was too shocked to speak. She stared, her red-rimmed eyes wide, until the ghost-girl started laughing again.

"Vault?" Ginny sputtered. The last bit of her energy was brought back to life by the girl's malicious laughter. She managed to stand, though her feet tingled before going completely numb, and paint a glare over her despairing face. "Who are you?" she demanded of the ghost.

She shut her transparent mouth with a snap, matching Ginny's glare with an equally passionate one of her own. "Though _you_ are hardly in the situation to make such a demand," she replied ostentatiously, "I will acquiesce." She drew herself to her full height – her ghostly head grazed the ceiling of the tiny chamber – and replied in a stately murmur, "I am Andrea Theodosia Malfoy, forbearer of the Master of this manor." She raised a smug eyebrow as if to add, _And who are you compared to that?_

Ginny accepted the challenge. "Well then, _Andrea_," she shot back with what was meant to be a snarl but escaped as a rasping choke because her throat was so raw, "_I _am Ginevra Malfoy, and I am _currently _the mistress of the manor."

The shock showed so briefly on the ghost's face that Ginny wondered if she had imagined it. In a moment, Andrea was laughing again.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that," she gasped out. "No one's ever come up with that one."

"I – am – not – lying!" Ginny shouted. "_You will get me out of here at once!_"

Andrea had never learned to take orders and it didn't appear as if she were going to start at that moment. Her eyes narrowed, and she replied in a voice as colder as the surrounding air, "I will be commanded only by my master, or his _real _mistress." Ginny's mouth was open a moment later to argue, but she was beginning to float away. Before disappearing, she spoke over her shoulder. "You're lucky to be alive still, you know. I've never seen a woman live this long, and the men die soon after."

Ginny felt her heart plummet to her toes as the hem of Andrea's silver dress disappeared through the wall.

-&-

"Ginny!" Ron cried, bursting into Alice's room. His breathing was heavy from running up the stairs. "Ginny, look, I'm really –"

A small gurgle interrupted him. Ron blinked and looked around, realizing that he was speaking to an empty room. Well, nearly empty. He could see Alice's tiny feet squirming beneath her blanket in her cradle.

Ron looked to his left, then to his right, as if expecting someone else to cross to his niece's side and comfort her. When no one stepped forward and Alice continued her tentative warbles, Ron shrugged and crossed to her side.

She was surrounded by green blankets, her white little head standing out sharply from amongst the Malfoy colors. Impossibly tiny fingers gripped her blanket as she wiggled her toes, glaring accusingly up at Ron as if to say _Don't even _try _to ignore me!_

"Where's your mother?" Ron asked, dropping his voice involuntarily to a whisper as if speaking in a normal tone would shatter the little baby into a million tiny pieces. "I need to find her."

"Mooroo," Alice replied, the reproach still in her eyes.

Ron sighed. "I know. I drove her away; I hurt her, and I came here promising I would make things better." Ron stuck a little finger down in the cradle, and Alice stared at it, wide-eyed. "Things have gotten off to a rather botched start, haven't they?"

"_Mmmm_mmm," Alice murmured, reaching up and grabbing his finger with surprising strength. Ron tugged at it, but she didn't let it go.

"She's avoiding me," Ron mumbled, spinning his finger in the baby's grasp. "She's hiding from me just like our family is hiding from her, just like we've been avoiding the issue for three years…" He straightened up, and Alice let him have his finger back. "I have to find her. It isn't fair to any of us to let this go on."

Ron was just beginning to spin on his heel and leave the room when he noticed an envelope tucked into the folds of Alice's blankets. He bent closer again, squinting to read the tightly scribbled writing on its exterior.

_To make you understand, _it said simply. It was addressed to no one, but Ron knew the writing wasn't his sister's. It had to be Malfoy's.

Ron lifted up the envelope. It was heavy, probably with at least two sheet of parchment folded up inside. Wondering what on earth this missive could mean, Ron glanced down at Alice.

"Should I open it?" he asked the baby, but she only stared, choosing to remain silent on this issue.

About to slide his fingers into place and break the wax seal, Ron jumped when a voice interrupted him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

-30-

Draco was very experienced at running away. He had, after all, spent his entire life running from his problems. Every time his life had presented him with a new challenge, he had avoided it. He knew how to escape; he had even mastered the art of talking himself out of deadly guilt.

This art, however, refused to work in his current situation.

_How could you leave her?_ a nasty little voice kept asking. _How could you turn your back on her _now, _after everything you've forced her to sacrifice to get this far?_

_But that's why I must leave, _he countered bitterly. _Nothing I've given her could even make up for what she's lost._

_What about your love?_

Draco stopped in his tracks. He had given her his heart, but even that left him feeling guilty. Knowing that Draco loved her as much as he did, had Ginny begun to feel obligated to him? Had becoming his wife been simply the necessary step, not the desired one? Did she really want the life he'd given her, or did she feel as if she owed it to him?

Of course, as all foolish men do, Draco overlooked the simplest solution to his troubles: asking Ginny. She would have told him in seconds flat that if he thought she didn't love him, he must be blind, deaf, and dumb. She would have kissed him so hard that his senses screamed and then asked him if he doubted her love then.

But of course, he kept right on running away.

-&-


	9. Red Tinge on the Hillside

_Chapter Nine: Red Tinge on the Hillside_

Ron dropped the letter in shock and spun around. "What – Who – ?"

Andrea's thin transparent lips curled into a smug smile. "Hello."

Ron's eyes were wide and wondering as he took in the look of the ghost: floating formidably over his head (which, considering _his _height, was a spectacular feat) as her full skirts cascaded toward the marble floor.

"Who are you?" he choked out finally.

Her smile only widened. "Let's not waste time on trivialities, shall we? You see –" she looked him up and down contemptuously "– judging by your vast quantities of speckles and your _obscenely _red hair, I assume you are related to the woman married to the current master of this manor?"

Ron sputtered, hardly knowing how to reply to such a question. Finally, he managed, "Ginny… Ginny is my sister."

"Ah. Well, your sister is currently in a bit of a fix."

Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion and surprise. "What are you talking about?"

Andrea stared at him closely as she answered, "She's freezing to death, you see, as we speak."

-&-

Ginny had many times imagined what it would be like to die, but none of her guesses remotely resembled what she was feeling at that moment. This is probably because she was, in fact, feeling nothing at all: her body was frozen to complete numbness. Her skin was taut, as smooth and as cold as glass, and she could practically feel the blood trudging at a painfully slow rate through her constricted veins.

She blinked, and it seemed the most arduous task she had ever performed in her life to open her eyes again. She lay in a corner of the vault, her knees drawn tightly to her chin, her hands tucked under her arms. Her muscles shook violently, long past simple shivers.

All this, however, was lost on her; she was so far gone that she could not even focus on her thoughts. Rather, they came sporadically, one image and memory morphing into another that was completely unrelated to the first.

She blinked again, and a new thought flew into her weakened mind.

He was small and dark and beautiful in his sadness, proud as a raven, unreachable as a storm cloud. Just looking at him, he who would never look upon her again, shattered her fragile heart into a billion pieces.

Harry Potter. How well she remembered the last time she had ever seen him, the day she graduated Hogwarts. Details flooded into Ginny's mind as they never would have on a normal day: what he'd been wearing, the barrettes in her hair, the glint of his glasses in the strong sunlight. His eyes more than anything were seared into her memories: they had been so broken, so full of hate. They had never risen to her face, and he had left without speaking to her.

Three years had passed, and still not a word had been spoken. Ginny was to die in that vault, never to be found, leaving Harry without ever having told him how much she needed him… how sorry she had been. How much she loved him.

If, by some twist of fate, Ginny had never met Draco alone in the Astronomy Tower on that fateful night in her sixth year, she might be dying as Mrs. Potter, not Mrs. Malfoy. But it was never to be so; Fate had played her cards, and Ginny would be lying if she said she regretted marrying Draco. She loved her husband… but Harry owned a piece of her heart as well, and she was die without ever having told him that.

Ginny realized at that moment that Draco was the only thing she could say with surety that she did not regret as she lay dying. He was her stronghold, the best part of her, and she was proud to die as his wife and the mother of their child. The thought of leaving him so soon, he who would _never_ leave her, nearly drove her faster into death.

And so, alone with her regret and her passion, Ginny turned her face toward chilling death.

-&-

"Ginny! Oh, God, please… Ginny…"

Ron had never run so fast in his entire life. As he sped around the corner, his chest heaving with sobs, a thousand thoughts ran through his mind.

_How could she be taken like this? What would I do without her? What… what can she possibly be thinking as she lies dying!_

"It's there," Andrea pointed out calmly from behind him. "Don't let it shut behind you."

Ron did not pause to think. He ripped off his right shoe as he heaved open the steel vault, wasting only a second to prop it open before falling to his knees at the huddled body of his baby sister.

"Oh, my God…no… no, Ginny, Ginny!" One look at her brought tears to Ron's eyes, her face blindingly white and her cheeks and eyelids sunken. "_Dear God, please come back!_"

-&-


	10. Crocus and Aconite

**A/N: **Okay. Here goes. I know it has been a looooong, long time since I last updated. Suffice it to say that I owe my readers and reviewers a HUGE apology. I am determined not to let this fic go unfinished. I promise that I will not abandon it again. I'm in it for the long haul this time! :]

Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone who continued to read and review. This one's for you.

p.s. A note on the world of my fic: As I began this story after OotP, the events of _Half-Blood Prince _and _Deathly Hallows_ did not occur in my world. Three years have passed since Ginny's graduation from Hogwarts. In those three years, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Order defeated Lord Voldemort. I might be getting more into the details about it later… but until then, this story is not about Harry's struggle with Voldie. Harry has other things to be dealing with in my world…

p.p.s. The chapter titles are from "Spring Came," a poem by Kendra Peters that I stumbled across randomly online. :] Harry Potter, unfortunately, does not belong to me either, but I love J.K. Rowling for creating him and his world.

_Chapter 10: Crocus and Aconite_

"Where's the bedroom? _Where's the bedroom?!_" Ron croaked at Andrea, who floated serenely in the air behind him as he raced through the halls of Malfoy Manor. "I swear, if you don't help me, I'll find a way to kill you again!"

"Sir? Mistress's Brother, Sir?"

Andrea's undoubtedly snarky reply was cut off by the squeaky cry of Ebby the house elf. Ron, on the other hand, who was quite distracted by his sister's present condition, ran right into Ebby, sending her flying. She skidded to a halt several meters away on the marble floor of the manor's entrance hall.

"Ebby! Ebby, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you, I swear…" Before the elf could reply, Ron, who was carrying Ginny's unconscious body over his shoulders, went bouncing down the hall toward her. "Please, Ebby, it's my sister, she's—she's gone all cold and—and she won't wake…?"

The elf's eyes widened as she stood up and dusted herself off, but, fortunately, seeing as how Ron was completely beside himself with worry, her head was in the right place.

"Sir should take her upstairs. Sir must lay her on the bed in the first room on the right. Ebby will go fetch a Healer. Ebby knows where he lives."

Ron mouthed soundlessly at her as she turned on the spot and disappeared with a_ crack._

"Well, do you think gaping like a fish is going to revive her?" Andrea scoffed at him. "I think you should listen to the blatantly more intelligent elf."

Ron bounded up the stairs without replying, although at a different time he might have recognized that, to an ancestor of Malfoy's, being called inferior to a house elf was an insult worth dueling over.

The door to the room on the right of the upstairs landing burst open as Ron leapt toward it. Immediately in front of him stood a vast four-poster bed with blankets of silken green. Taking his sister gingerly down from his shoulders, he laid her down on top of the blankets, his mind still blank with shock.

With her hair fanned out against the dark fabric, Ginny looked as white and still as a marble statue. Ron's first impression was of an effigy on a tomb. Just as his knees collapsed beneath him, a wooden chair appeared by the side of the bed, and he sank into it, overwhelmed with shock and sudden fatigue. Reaching out, he brushed his sister's curls away from her face.

"Ginny," he whispered. "Ginny, please, hold on. I'm here, I'll protect you… I won't leave… I promise." He dropped his hand to her own and was shocked at how cold it felt to his touch—like the glass of a windowpane in winter. To his amazement, tears pricked his eyes, and he fought down a bitter stinging sensation in his nose and throat.

Ginny was almost lifeless. A few minutes longer and she could have died. And Ron—Ron had been upstairs, clueless, brooding over how to apologize for all the pain her own family had caused her. She could die still, without ever knowing how sorry he felt—how sorry they all would feel, when they knew.

And Draco—Draco was nowhere to be found.

-&-

Draco hadn't been on his own since his sixth year of Hogwarts—since after his father went to Azkaban and his mother fled the country. At first, he had no idea where to go. Of course, he hadn't thought to pack anything—he'd poured all his mixed-up thoughts into that letter to Ginny and then left as quickly as possible. He had been scared that she would catch him, yet wishing at the same time that she would. But now it was too late, and he was gone. It felt horrible to be alone—well, to be away from her.

And Alice.

Suddenly, Draco's self-esteem plummeted even lower than he thought it could possibly fall. Already angry at himself for pulling Ginny away from her family and her best friends, he realized how much more horrible it was for him to have left her—because now she was truly alone. And, on top of everything, he'd left behind his firstborn child.

Draco, who had, when he first ran away, Apparated into the all-wizard village near Malfoy Manor, paused in the town center. For a moment, he hesitated. He knew he was making a terrible mistake. He knew, deep down, that Ginny might not even ever forgive him, because now, of all times, was not the time to leave.

But that knowledge was buried deeper beneath his history with Ginny's family—and with Harry Potter. Draco knew that he was the worst, the _very _worst, person for Ginny in her family's eyes. He also knew that he might never treat her family the way Ginny wanted him to; he just couldn't. He'd spent all his life hating them.

And then, even if her family could learn to accept him, and he her family… there was still Harry Potter.

And at that thought, Draco decided that he could not go back. His deed was done. Ron was at Malfoy Manor; Ron would comfort her. And then, perhaps, she would realize how happy she finally was—to be back with her family, to be loved by many people instead of only one. And then she would forget him.

Miserably, Draco cast about for a single person other than Ginny whom he could go to. He realized that, in stark contrast to her life, he had no one—he had not been forced to give anyone up when he took a Weasley as his wife. The selfishness of his own decision bore down upon him until he could stand it no longer.

Then, in desperation, he realized where he could go. There was one friend who had stood by him—and Ginny—from the beginning.

As Draco Apparated out of the town center, he had no idea that just a few meters away, inside a little cottage with a bone on a sign hanging in front, Ebby the House Elf was Apparating with a Healer back to Malfoy Manor, to try to save Ginevra Malfoy's life.

-&-

Ron jumped and knocked his head on the top of the bedframe as Ebby Apparated into the room. The Healer, a tall, balding, brown-haired man with a wan yet friendly smile, strode forward immediately and shook Ron's hand.

"I'm Robert Cole, of Eastwicke Village. I'm the Healer for the wizarding families in these parts." His glance fell immediately to the bed. "This is Mrs. Malfoy?"

Ron jumped before realizing that that was, in fact, his sister's name. "Yes. I found her locked in a room in the dungeons. She's been out cold…" His voice trailed off. The Healer dropped his hand and crossed to the other side of the bed, reaching for Ginny's hand and searching for a pulse.

"Her heart's still beating, but barely," he said. He put a hand to her forehead. "We need to try to warm her up and then revive her."

As if she had been waiting for these words, Ebby bounded across the room and opened a trunk in the corner that Ron hadn't seen before, pulling out a creamy-white nightgown with ribbons at the collar and cuffs.

"Ebby with change Mistress," she said. "You men wait outside."

Ron stood up and followed the Healer out into the hall. The door shut loudly behind them.

"You are obviously related to Mrs. Malfoy in some way," said the Healer bluntly, glancing over Ron's freckles and obnoxiously red hair.

"I'm her brother," Ron said. "I was here to visit when… when a ghost in the manor told me where Ginny was."

The Healer raised an eyebrow. "And where is Mr. Malfoy?"

Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably. "He's—gone. On a trip. I'll send word to him right away."

Robert didn't seem to believe him, but only hesitated a moment before continuing on. "Very well. I advise you to do that as soon as possible. I'm not sure how long Mrs. Malfoy will be unconscious, but depending on how she responds to treatment, it could be for a very long time."

" 'Treatment'? Ron repeated. "What do you plan to do?"

Robert glanced sadly at the door. "I've never seen anyone so deeply unconscious before. I highly doubt that she's in this state solely due to cold—there must have been some kind of magical interference. I can only think of one way to treat her: with small, repeated doses of aconite."

"Aconite?" Ron questioned. He was in far too much shock to remember his past ten years of magical training, much less his first Potions class.

The Healer looked at him in surprise. "It is used to revive any who have tasted the Draught of Living Death."

-&-

Draco had been to this house many times in his childhood; he knew immediately what to do. Walking up the gravel path onto which he had just Apparated, he craned his neck upward, meeting the blank stone eyes of the gargoyle positioned just above the hefty wooden front doors.

"I am Draco Malfoy," he said, careful not to blink. "I'm here to see Blaise Zabini."

-30-


	11. Stars of Brilliant Hues

**A/N:** Please see the Author's Note at the beginning of the last chapter for a brief catch-up on the world of this fic. Please also check out the prequel to this fic, _In the Bleak Midwinter_. Aside from the whole "this is a sequel" business, some important stuff from that fic is going to come up again in this one very soon. You have been warned. :]

And many thanks to my amazing reviewers! I love you all.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Fic and chapter titles are from "Spring Came," a poem by Kendra Peters.

_Chapter 11: Stars of Brilliant Hues_

"I am Draco Malfoy," he said, careful not to blink. "I'm here to see Blaise Zabini."

The stone gargoyle nodded once and Draco waited. A few minutes later, the wooden door on the left opened up and revealed Blaise Zabini, quirked eyebrow and all.

"Draco?" he said, looking confused. "What are you doing here? No wait—" Draco shut his mouth, which he had opened to try to explain his presence. "—Come on in." Blaise stepped aside to let Draco through.

Shutting the door behind him, Blaise called in a slightly elevated tone, "Let's have some tea in the drawing room."

Draco looked at him as if he were going crazy.

"There's got to be a house-elf nearby who overheard," Blaise whispered at Draco. "I still don't know their names yet, so I just shout out my commands, and usually it works."

Blaise's mother had died two years earlier, leaving everything she owned to her only son. However, he'd been in hiding, working secretly with the Order of the Phoenix, until the fall of Voldemort not one year earlier. He'd only recently moved back into the manor that he now owned.

"You redecorated," Draco pointed out blandly. The previously dark and dank front hall was now draped with royal purple silk and lit by wrought-gold torches. Draco wrinkled his nose. "Why purple?"

"The color of royalty, my friend," Blaise said smoothly, leading them into the sitting room on the right of the entrance hall. " 'When you're rich and important, flaunt it tastefully.' The one thing in life my mother and I were able to agree upon."

True to Blaise's word, a tea tray lay heaped beneath mounds of cakes and sandwiches on the center table. Blaise picked up a sandwich and ate it in one bite.

"So why _are_ you here, Draco?" he asked with his mouth full.

Draco sighed.

"I'm here because I left Ginny and I couldn't think of anywhere else to go," he said in one breath. He pretended to be very interested in a snag on the carpet.

Blaise choked for a moment on his sandwich, gulped it down hastily, and then cried, "Are you out of your mind?"

Draco looked up at him. "No. Listen, she's miserable without her family, anyone can see that. And they wouldn't even come to see Alice! Their first grandchild, Blaise, and they burned the letter before they even bothered to read it!" Draco sighed again. "I just thought… I just thought that maybe they would come back to her if I left."

Blaise got up and started pacing violently around the room. "You're crazy. You're losing your head." He paused and stared intently at Draco for a moment. "Or you are seriously stupid." He went back to pacing.

"Don't you get it?" Draco shouted, jumping up himself. "I love Ginny, but she's miserable—family is everything to her!"

"No, Draco." Blaise crossed the room and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "_You _are everything to her."

-&-

Ebby carefully opened the door to the room where Ginny lay, ushering Healer Cole and Ron back inside.

"Mistress is in very deep sleep," she murmured, shaking her head.

Ron glanced over at the bed. Ginny now lay carefully clothed in a white nightgown. Her skin was almost as pale as the fabric against it; even her freckles seemed dimmer. Her hair curled out around her head in soft little tentacles, covering the pillow with vibrant red like a stain of blood. Ron shuddered.

"… and I'll need a mortar and pestle to grind the herb," Cole was saying to Ebby. Even as he spoke, however, a small table appeared next to Ginny's bed. On top of it sat a black marble mortar and pestle and a basket of what Ron assumed what fresh aconite.

"What—?" the Healer began, raising his eyebrows.

"Anything in the house will appear in this room when it is needed, sir," Ebby explained at once. "As long as it is somewhere on the Malfoy lands, sir, it will pop up when you think of it." As she spoke, a steaming bowl of what looked like water and some rags appeared on the table as well.

"How—?" began Ron, but Ebby was already hurrying out of the room, calling, "Ebby must go look after Alice, now, sir!"

The Healer looked at Ron. "Alice? Is there someone else here?"

_Alice! _Ron had forgotten all about her. "Yes. Ginny—my sister—she had a baby just recently," he said.

The Healer looked shocked. "Why didn't you say something? If she was already weak…"

Ron felt his heart rate sharply accelerate. "What?"

The Healer was too busy mumbling to himself to hear him. "Well, that would explain the extreme reaction…"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Ron bellowed.

Cole jumped and looked sharply at him. "Really, was that necessary?"

Ron grabbed him. "_Just answer my question._"

"I mean…" The Healer suddenly looked uncomfortable. "She just gave birth. Her immune system was already weak from the strain. This new information… well…" He paused. "Well it doesn't really help her chances, does it?" he finished quickly, avoiding Ron's eyes.

"You tell me," Ron growled. "_You're the Healer._"

His words seem to push the man into action.

"Right," said Cole. "Right. Well. You take this warm water," he levitated the steaming bowl and the rags to the other side of the bed, "and start patting down her face and chest. We don't want to warm her up to quickly—complete submergence would be a shock to the body. That should do for now."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ron warily as he crossed to the side of the bed where the bowl now rested and began wetting a rag.

"I'm going to press this aconite and make her drink a small dosage of the juice," he said. He looked at Ginny. "I only hope she swallows…"

Ron was not assured by the clinging hope in the man's voice. Professional surety, for example, might have been a bit better at that juncture. All the same, the tall, freckled young man proceeded to press a damp cloth across his sister's forehead and collarbone, causing the curls around her forehead to frizz up and leaving a dark, wet stain on the front of her nightgown. After several minutes of the same action, her skin felt a bit warmer to the touch, so Ron put the rag back in the bowl, and it disappeared.

He looked across at the Healer. A tiny glass cup, much like a teacup without a handle, had just appeared on the bedside table. The Healer tilted some brownish-green looking liquid into it until it was a couple of centimeters full. Then he cleared his throat.

"Right," said Cole. "You open her mouth, and I'm going to pour, and then we watch and see if she swallows."

"How long until she wakes up?" Ron asked as he parted her lips carefully with his fingers.

"I doubt she will wake up after the first dosage," said the Healer, "and we can only give her one dose every twelve hours." He paused to pour the liquid into Ginny's mouth. "We'll be lucky if she wakes up after two doses, but it could take four or even six. I don't know."

Ron closed her mouth around the liquid gingerly, prepared to sit her upward if she began to choke. He and the Healer watched fearfully as she lay still for a long moment. Then, suddenly, without any other movement, she swallowed.

`"Thank Merlin," Ron sighed, looking across at the Healer. "Now what?"

"Now," said Cole, "we wait."

Ron turned his eyes back to his sister, reaching for her hand, praying for a sign of consciousness.

-&-

"I can't believe you implicated _me_ in this mess," Blaise ranted, shaking Draco angrily in his grasp. He let go, and Draco fell ungracefully back onto the couch where he'd been sitting. "Now I get to be yelled at, too."

"Blaise, I had to do it. I couldn't tell her. I know she would try to stop me… I know would never have had the strength to leave."

Blaise bent down to him and looked him straight in the eyes. "Have you ever _met _your wife?" He stood up and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Draco. You're acting like a bloody noble Gryffindor. It's disgusting." He began pacing again.

Draco stood up. "Fine. Look, I'm sorry I came here. I'm leaving now. Please don't tell anyone that you saw me."

Blaise laughed harshly and without humor. "You're leaving now. Okay. Where are you going? Where could you _possibly_ go?"

"I'm one of the richest men in England," Draco shot back, getting very angry now. _Why doesn't he understand? _"I think I'll manage."

Before Draco could move, Blaise had his wand in his hand. "_Petrificus Totalus,_" he said, a mixture of pity and contempt in his voice. "Sorry, mate."

Draco's limbs sprung to his body and he collapsed, unable to move. He hoped his eyes conveyed his sudden and deep hatred.

"I know you'll kill me later," Blaise was saying, looking down at him, "but you've got to listen to reason, mate."

Draco tried to shake his head, or even his fist, but it didn't work. Blaise kept talking.

"First off, Ginny loves you more than anyone, even herself. Yes, it's a stupid Gryffindor tendency that you seemed to have picked up on—but it's still priceless. It's invaluable. And here you are, sacrificing yourself in that noble and _completely_ demented way that says 'I have no idea what I'm talking about.'"

Draco tried to glare. Still not working.

"Secondly: you just had a baby, Draco. _A baby._ Your firstborn child, and your first act as a loving father is to run off and abandon her." Blaise shook his head. "No offense, mate, but I think that's a Malfoy record… and that says a lot.

"Last but not least," Blaise continued, "let me just ask you one question. Do you _really _think—and beneath that layer of self-sacrificing ponce, I know you know the answer—do you _really _think that Ginny is going to be happier without you? Family or not?"

Blaise looked down at Draco, straight into his eyes. For several minutes, they simply stared at each other in complete silence. Then, Blaise stepped back, lifted his wand, muttered the countercurse, and held out a hand.

"Git," Draco muttered, allowing Blaise to help pull him upward. "That was two questions."

"One and half, really," said Blaise, and a large smile spread over his face.

-&-

Several minutes passed, during which Ginny did not move. Ron shifted from foot to foot, his eyes not leaving her face. His palms were beginning to sweat. After ten minutes, he said, "Shouldn't something have happened by now?"

To his surprise, the Healer nodded. "Yes. I didn't think just one would do it." He sighed. "Ah, well. What time is it?" Suddenly, a grandfather clock appeared against the wall. "Ah. One. Then I'll be back at one in the morning to give her the second dose." He glanced over at Ron. "Unless you think you can manage it?"

Ron glared at him. "Fine. Just leave all that stuff in here," he added, waving a hand at the instruments and the aconite on the bedside table, more for the room than for the Healer.

"Right, then." Healer Cole crossed to the door. "I'd say she should take a warm bath after the second dosage, whether she's awake or not by then. And make sure you only give her as much juice as I did. And… what else… oh yes, send your house elf if you need me." He stopped and turned back to Ron. "Any questions?"

"No. Thanks for your help. Ebby will pay you; I think she's downstairs."

"Jolly good," said the Healer, and then he was gone.

Ron collapsed into the chair at Ginny's side. For a moment, he sat quite still, his head in his hands. Then he took her hand.

"Ginny," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry and everyone's sorry. Please come back."

He watched her face for several minutes. There was no change. Then, resolutely, he set down her hand and stood up. He thought for a second, and before he'd even made a decision, a desk, several sheets of paper, and a quill appeared in the corner of the room.

Ron crossed to desk, sat down, and started writing a letter.

_Dear Mum,_ he began…

-30-

**Voila! I hope you liked it! More soon. Please read and review!**


	12. From SunsetGold to Night

**A/N: **Chapter 12! Yay! Please enjoy… and don't forget to review. :]

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns HP. Story title and chapter names are from "Spring Came" by Kendra Peters.

_Chapter 12: From Sunset-Gold to Night_

Molly Weasley hummed a little to herself as she made some cakes to go with tea. George had already promised to stop by, and Bill and Fleur, but it was a bit lonely, with Harry and Ron working for the Ministry every day and Ginny—well…

She hastily cast about for another subject, but fortunately, a light tapping at the kitchen window changed her thoughts for her.

A very stately looking eagle owl was giving her a sort of glare though the glass. Hastily, she wiped her hands and let him in. He dropped his letter on the table and was off again in a moment. Curious, Molly picked up the letter and gingerly opened it. When she recognized Ron's handwriting, she gave a brief sigh—partly relieved, partly disappointed—and began reading at once.

_Dear Mum,_

_I'm not at work. I took the day off to visit Malfoy Manor. Something's happened. Ginny's been out cold, but she'll probably be all right when she wakes up. I think you should all come over here and see her. Please spread the word to everyone else in the family, and tell Hermione where I've been. Malfoy's not here._

_Love,_

_Ron_

_p.s. I'm not alone here (besides Ginny); there's someone else. I don't really think I should explain it in a letter. You'd better just come and see for yourself. You'll understand. _

Molly read the letter several times before reality dawned. Something had happened? Ginny was unconscious? Ginny would _"probably"_ be all right?!

Suddenly, Molly sprung into action, throwing the letter on the table, running out of the house, and Apparating as soon as she got past the Burrow's protective spells.

-&-

"Send me an owl in an hour or two," Blaise called to Draco's back as he retreated into the sunset. "After you've sorted everything out."

"Something tells me it's going to take longer than that," Draco replied over his shoulder. He shuddered to think of his wife's temper descending upon him. A small, annoying voice in his head reminded him that he deserved it.

Before Draco Apparated, he heard Blaise laughing, but he couldn't bring himself to see the humor in the situation.

-&-

"Ron! _Ron!_ Open this door _at once_ or I _swear_ on my soul—"

The shout, accompanied by pounding on the heavy doors of Malfoy Manor, woke Alice, and she started crying with a much greater capacity than her tiny lungs would seem to allow.

Ron, who was up in her room with Ebby, gave the elf a pleading look.

"You should pick her up, Sir," said the elf. The pounding and shouting grew louder downstairs.

"But—I've never—what if I—" Ron backed away from the cradle, wringing his hands. More voices rose from outside the front doors.

Ebby sighed. "Sir, she is your niece, sir. Eventually, you will have to hold her." But the elf stepped forward and took the baby up in her arms instead. "Shush," she murmured. "It's okay, little mistress. Shush."

Ron thanked all the gods and goddesses he could think of for the house elf's presence before dashing downstairs.

"All right, _all right,_" he shouted, angrily. "Keep your knickers on." He wrenched the door open.

Everyone paused, mid-shout. Harry stood closest to the door, his fist raised, about to knock (if you could call it knocking; it was more like pummeling) again. Behind him stood Hermione, who was chewing on a fingernail, looking worried, and Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was falling from her bun. She looked absolutely frantic. Bill and Fleur stood at the back, Bill with his arm around his wife.

Mrs. Weasley nearly bowled Harry over as she ran into the room and gripped Ron in a tight hug. Moments later, she stepped back.

"Where's Ginny? We got your owl. Fred and George are coming after they close the shop. Your father will be along too." She stopped. Ron blinked at her. "_Where's Ginny?!_" she asked again, loudly, making him jump.

"She's… upstairs," he said, feeling suddenly very embarrassed. Who was he to welcome them to Malfoy Manor? Not for the first time that afternoon, he forced himself to imagine that Draco was going to be back any minute. Ron thought again of the letter—_To make you understand—_but turned his attention immediately back to his family, not wanting to think the worst.

Mrs. Weasley pushed past him and began running up the stairs before he could say more.

"On the right," he called after her.

Hermione hurried to Ron and hugged him.

"I wish I'd known you were coming today," she whispered in his ear. "I would have come, too."

Ron pulled back and smiled and her gratefully, meeting her concerned chocolate eyes with his blue ones. "You're here now," he said. "That is what's important."

She nodded. Then, stepping back from Ron, she turned to look at Harry, and, hovering behind him, Bill and Fleur. They all three looked as though they were regretting their decision to show up.

"Come on upstairs," Ron said, ushering them in. "It's okay, Malfoy's not here."

"What, so you've taken over?" Bill joked, pushing gently past Harry. Fleur followed him. Before they climbed the stairs after Mrs. Weasley, Bill turned back to Ron. "I hope you explain what's going on after this," he said simply. Then they left.

Only Harry stood outside the open door. Behind him, the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. The bright oranges and golds of sunset silhouetted him over the threshold. He hesitated for a moment longer—then, very slowly, he stepped inside.

"Thanks for coming, mate," Ron said, looking straight into Harry's large, troubled green eyes.

"Take me to her," Harry said simply, and Ron nodded, shut the door, and took Hermione's hand, leading his two best friends upstairs.

-&-

Draco was still fighting the urge to run away when he Apparated outside of the boundaries of magical protection around Malfoy Manor. He knew that Blaise was right—Ginny wouldn't want him to run away—but it wasn't about what Ginny wanted. It was about what was better for her, whether she liked it or not. And it didn't matter that it was painful—that's why it was called a _sacrifice._ She would recover in time, with her family surrounding her, helping her.

Draco shook his head violently, as if he were trying to shake his very thoughts away. He sped up his steps, hoping he would arrive at the front door of the Manor before he could change his mind. In his distraction and haste, he had overshot the front of the house when he Apparated, so instead he had to come at the front door from around the side. He could just see the corner, he sped into a jog—

And he froze, just out of view of the front landing, at the sound of voices.

"Ron! _Ron!_ Open this door at _once _or I _swear_ on my soul—"

Draco would recognize that voice anywhere.

Harry Potter's voice.

Before Draco could peak around the corner at the group of people outside the front door, he heard the sound of wailing burst out of a window above him, and it wrenched his heart.

_Alice_, he thought. He was standing directly beneath her second-story window. It was open, allowing him to plainly hear her crying. The sounds of shouting from outside the front door must have frightened her or woken her up.

Over the sound of Alice's crying, he barely heard a female voice, quieting her. _Ginny_, he thought, and his stomach dropped out. He tried to focus his attention instead upon the people currently outside his front door.

Leaning forward, Draco peered around the corner of the manor. Upon the front step, behind Harry, stood Granger, Ginny's mother, and—Fleur Delacour? Another extremely red-headed man, whom Draco assumed was one of Ginny's brothers, had his arm around her. _Odd_, Draco thought, but then the door burst open and Draco heard Ron's voice.

"All right, _all right, _keep your knickers on!"

Mrs. Weasley burst into the house.

Draco sank against the side of the manor, afraid his knees would give out. _Of course._

Draco was gone. They knew that. Ginny must have written to them right away, begging them to come and see her and comfort her. She must have been so desperate to see her family and to introduce them to her daughter that she could hardly wait to call them to the manor.

And, of course, they had come, knowing Ginny would need to be told that Draco had always been a lying bastard—he was a Malfoy, after all—and why was she so surprised that he left her with a baby?

Draco took a long, shuddering breath. The reality of leaving her hit him for the first time. He had never been noble before—he was, after all, in Slytherin for a reason. And being so utterly unprepared for what it would be like to sacrifice himself for someone else, when it really happened—when he realized that maybe he was _right,_ that maybe she _was_ happier—his heart broke in his chest.

He felt stupid and betrayed all at once. Yes, this was his decision—but deep down, the whole time, he knew that stubborn, prideful Ginny would drag him back to her. But it was not to be. He hadn't even been gone an entire day, yet here was her family, desperate to see her, and she was inside with her newborn daughter, equally as desperate to see them.

He was a fool, an ignorant, idiotic fool. Ginny didn't _need_ him. She had many others to make her happy. He realized why she had stayed with him all this time: because he needed her.

He, Draco Malfoy, who had never needed anyone in his entire life, needed _her._

And then, disgusted at his own weakness, shocked at his own misjudgment, Draco ran as fast as he could away from the manor, sprinting into the rising darkness, disappearing as soon as he crossed the protective barrier.

-&-

"Oh, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley murmured, brushed shaking fingers through her daughter's hair, "oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry." She looked up as Ron, Harry, and Hermione entered the room.

Bill and Fleur looked over at them, too. They stood on Ginny's other side, looking awkward but concerned. Bill held one of Ginny's hands in his own.

As soon as he entered the room, Harry froze. His eyes went immediately to Ginny, and he didn't blink. He didn't even seem to breathe.

Mrs. Weasley stood up. "Ron, I want you to tell me what is going on, and I want you to tell me _right now_." She looked up at him, her bitterness evident in her voice. "Where's Malfoy?"

Ron took a deep breath. He hardly knew where to begin. He let out his first breath and tried again. Bill turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow. Fleur continued to remain silent, reaching out and brushing Ginny gently on the arm.

Hermione reached over and took Ron's hand. She gave him an encouraging half-smile, although her own surprise at Ginny's condition was evident behind her eyes. Harry still did not move.

Ron took a third breath. "Okay. Listen. I have a few things to tell you. I think you should all come with me. I can't give Ginny her medicine until later, anyway, and…" he paused. "And there's someone I think you should meet," he finished quickly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but Mrs. Weasley took a step toward him. "Ron, I just want to know if she's going to be okay. After—after _three years—_" but her voice cracked and she could not go on. She looked at the floor.

"I know how you feel," Ron said. "Come on. I'll explain everything." He turned to leave. Hermione followed, and so did Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur.

Harry didn't move. Ron turned back to him. "Harry?" he asked gently.

Finally, Harry tore his eyes from Ginny's unmoving body and looked at Ron. "I think… I think I want to stay here," he said. "I think I need a minute with her. If you don't mind."

Ron nodded. He understood. No one else said anything.

"I'll tell you everything later," Ron said. Then everyone filed out of the room, and the door shut behind them.

Harry, alone with Ginny for the first time in three years, crossed to her bedside, sat down, and began to cry.

-&-

**A/N: Let's face it: Harry was always a bit of a girl. :] Please review!!!**


	13. In Earth Scented Cool Evening

_Chapter 13: In Earth-Scented Cool Evening_

"Ginny," Harry choked, sitting very gently down at her right. "God, I hope you can hear me."

A few silent tears shone on Harry's cheeks in the dying sunlight that was pouring into the room. He hardly knew where to begin. How could he have known, three years ago when he left Hogwarts to hunt down Voldemort, full of his own anger and rage against Ginny and Draco, that _this_ was where he would end up—here, next to the seemingly lifeless body of the Only Girl He Had Ever Loved? And how could he have known that, most likely, his last words to her would be "my hatred is all I have left"?

Harry wasn't only crying because he was afraid for Ginny. He was crying at his own guilt. In spite of his victory over the Dark Lord, the past three years had been hell. He'd been in a constant battle with himself over whether he was wrong to be unforgiving or not. Every second, he'd struggled against the urge to write to Ginny, to talk to her, to _see _her… and every second, his stubborn pride won out. He'd done nothing, for three years—nothing. And now, she could die at any moment.

Harry didn't understand what was wrong with her, or whether or not her chance of survival was good—but those details didn't matter. What was most important was telling her the truth, telling her how he really felt—telling her that he was sorry.

Harry cleared his throat and used the hand that wasn't clutching Ginny's fingers to wipe his face clean of tears.

"Ginny," he began. "I know you've probably spent every day of the past three years wishing that you could hear me say this, but…" He hesitated. "But I forgive you. If you need to be with Malfoy as badly as I… as I thought I needed to be with you, then…" He took a deep breath. "Then I understand why you married him." He paused. "I don't understand why you _love_ him, but… but I understand why you left us for him. Why you left _me_ for him. Although… I guess you were never with me in the first place. And that was my own fault." Harry sighed. This really was shaping out to be the worst apology in history. Hopefully she would give him points for trying. _If she can even hear me,_ he added, bitterly.

"Anyway," he continued, "I hope that you can forgive me as well. I was too—too selfish—to admit that I was wrong, before. And it seems stupid, that something terrible needs to happen to you for me to admit it now, but… well, there you go. That's me." He gave her a short laugh that faded quickly, a laugh without humor. "If you can imagine Malfoy leaving you—for—for someone else—" Harry felt his throat tighten dangerously but kept going "—then you can understand why I acted the way I did, before. And you can understand why I felt that way… and… and why I still didn't talk to you, until now."

There was a long pause, during which Harry stared at the ceiling and blinked furiously. When his glasses finally seemed de-fogged, he looked back down at Ginny, who was pale as a sheet, and very still.

"Anyway. I just thought that—I want you to wake up, and—I hoped that if I told you all these things, it might… help." Slowly, he stood up, putting her hand carefully down on the bed. He turned to leave the room, but paused, facing the door. Then, as if he were doing it against his better judgment, he turned stiffly around and bent over her.

He paused with his face inches from hers. This close, he could see the little triangle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He could see the purple shadows beneath her tightly-drawn skin. He could see each individual dark cinnamon eyelash; he could see the dry skin on her chapped lips. He kept staring at her lips for what could have been an hour, or a century, and his face seemed to drop closer to hers as if pulled there by a magnetic force.

He only paused when his lips were a centimeter from hers. As if jerking out of a reverie, he froze, his eyes opening wide like a deer in headlights. For another moment, he watched her again, and then, slowly, like an old man, he lifted his head and kissed her chastely on the forehead.

He pulled away after a moment, finally ready to leave, finally ready to hear whatever Ron had to say. As he began to move across the room, a rustling sound made him freeze in his footsteps and whirl around.

Ginny's head was moving. Her eyes were closed, but her head was turning ever-so-slightly toward him. Harry was back at her side in an instant.

"Ginny?" he cried. "Ginny, can you hear me?"

As he watched, hope filling his face with light, her lips opened, and, just barely, he heard the whisper of a word.

"Draco?" she asked, her voice no louder than the murmur of the wind in the trees.

Harry's entire body stiffened. His face became a hard mask—but still, in his eyes, shown the hope that Ginny was waking up.

He touched her arm. "No, Ginny. It's Harry. I'm Harry."

He waited several minutes in complete silence, unmoving, waiting for a reaction, but Ginny did not move again, and after a while, he left.

-&-

Blaise paced back and forth in his study. Draco had left over an hour ago, and he still hadn't sent word. Blaise knew it would be awhile—Ginny wasn't famed for her bad temper for nothing—but, knowing his two best friends as he did, he'd assumed that, after her initial yelling fest, Ginny would've been so happy to see Draco back that she would've given it up and simply kissed him.

Blaise stopped his pacing and laughed a little to himself. _His two best friends._ He realized at that moment that it was true: Over the past three years, Blaise had come to respect and admire the fiery redhead as much as he did her husband, if not more. There was something about having someone around who could _finally_ override the willpower of a Malfoy that Blaise found extremely satisfying.

Ah, but therein lay the problem. Draco would never have given up his complete happiness—which he'd never had before in his life—to make someone else happy… at least, not until he met Ginny. Blaise found it bitterly ironic that the precise things Draco loved Ginny for—her ability to make him feel as he never had before, as he never thought he could—were also the things that made him leave her.

At that moment, with still no word from Draco, Blaise made up his mind. He cared too much about his two annoyingly stubborn friends to let them fight over (or persist in) a pathetically noble sacrifice.

He would make them see reason.

He was going to Malfoy Manor.

-&-

Harry heard voices down the hall as soon as he'd left Ginny's room. He felt strangely light, as if a burden had been lifted… but the knowledge that Ginny hadn't really been conscious to hear his speech left a part of his guilt still weighing on his heart. Trying to cut himself a little slack—_I'm here, at least_, he reasoned—he followed the sound of Mrs. Weasley's rising voice.

"I just don't understand—why didn't she _tell_ us?" she was saying, her voice almost cracking. "Is this why she's in there, unconscious?"

"No," said Ron. "She got locked in a room and now there's some kind of spell keeping her asleep," he said. Harry was very close to the door now, and he thought Ron sounded as though he were brushing aside the explanation behind Ginny's current state as though it weren't as important as something else.

"She _tried_ to tell us, Mum." Ron sounded desperate. "In that letter, the one you burned? That," he finished, "was about Alice."

_Alice?_ Harry definitely had no idea what was going on. Until he had spoken to Ginny, until he had relieved his burdened conscience, he had been willing to accept that she was unconscious without explanation, as long as he'd known she was going to be okay eventually. Now, he was definitely expecting a long, _detailed_ bit of storytelling from Ron…

He pushed open the door to the room, fully prepared to demand answers, barely noticing in the back of his mind that everyone had gone silent at Ron's words. As soon as he stepped inside, he understood why.

Ron, Hermione, Bill, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley were clustered around a large wooden cradle_. _Harry's mouth dropped open in shock.

"No way," he said. "_No bloody way_."

Hermione was holding a tiny, blanket-bundled baby in her arms.

-&-

"How long will you be staying, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Tom, hunching ahead of Draco down the hall of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not long. Maybe a couple of days. And I would prefer it if you kept my identity between you and me," Draco replied coolly, hiding his moroseness with irritation.

Tom raised his eyebrows, but said nothing else. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy." He stopped in front of door. "Here's your room, sir, number 19." He handed Draco the key. "Shall I send someone up with supper at seven, sir?"

"Yes," said Draco, and then he went into his room and shut the door in Tom's face.

-&-

Ron drew a deep breath, as if he were steeling himself to do something against his better judgment.

"Harry," he said, "this is Alice Malfoy. Ginny's daughter. My niece."

Harry thought he felt his jaw unhinge as his mouth fell further open. "Alice," he repeated dumbly.

Ron nodded. "That's right. She was born on March 31. A week ago today," he supplied, as if the information would dissolve Harry's shock.

Harry said nothing. After about a minute, he managed to shut his mouth.

Hermione took a step toward him. "Would you like to hold her?" she asked gently, her eyes wide with compassion. "She's asleep."

Harry stared at her, his expression inscrutable. Then he shook his head and took a small step back.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he said, to no one. "What am I doing here?"

Ron stepped toward him. Harry flinched and snapped his eyes around to Ron's face, but did not move.

"Listen," Ron said, and his voice was stern but understanding, "we all know that we've made mistakes, and so has Ginny. But we need to stay here for her. We need to fix this… this horrible situation." He looked around at all of them pleadingly.

"I don't _need _to do anything." Harry finally spoke, and his voice cracked, but his eyes were narrowed. "Where's _Malfoy _right now, huh? Why isn't _he_ here, watching his—his—_daughter_, for Christ's sake?" He chest was heaving as if he had just run a flight of stairs.

Ron sighed. Only Hermione noticed the sadness in his eyes and was not completely shocked at his next words.

"He's gone," Ron said. "He left."

Even Harry's eyes widened. Everyone began speaking at once.

"What?!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "What do you mean, _he left_?"

"He left Ginny like _this_?" Bill roared.

"How could he?" Fleur gasped, her hands over her mouth.

Ron silenced them with a raised hand, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Alice's high, trilling cry echoed over the room.

Everyone jumped a little and looked over at Hermione.

"Great," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You woke her up."

Molly, Bill, Fleur, and Harry had no answer to that; all four of them simply glared daggers at Ron.

Hermione went over to Ron, cradling Alice close to her chest. "It's okay, Ron," she said, "I'll take care of her." She smiled at him. "I think she's hungry."

Ron smiled back tiredly. He hadn't thought it possible that he could ever be _more_ grateful for Hermione's existence than he already was—but yet again, she was able to prove him wrong. "I love you," was all he could think to say. She smiled wider and took Alice out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

The sound of Alice's wails faded abruptly.

"Where's. Malfoy." Harry could hardly speak over the grinding of his teeth.

Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out some parchment, holding it up ruefully for everyone to see. _To make you understand_, it said, in handwriting that no one recognized.

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

Ron rolled his eyes again. "I didn't _read_ it," he said, taking offense. "I found it in Alice's cradle, right after Ginny and I—well, all of us—had an argument, and she stormed off. I haven't seen him since." He tucked the letter back into his pocket.

"That bloody coward," Bill spat. "Probably couldn't handle being a father."

"Probably got bored and moved on with some other woman," Harry added, sounding murderous.

Ron crossed his arms, looking suddenly very Hermione-ish. "Okay. Look. You want to know why he left? I'll tell you why. When I came over, I told Ginny that you—" he hesitated "—that _we_ burned her letter about Alice. We argued because _Draco blamed himself_ for us ignoring Ginny."

Everyone blinked.

"You just called him Draco," said Harry.

For a moment Ron seemed surprised, but then he merely shrugged. "So what. It's his name."

"He left—so that Ginny could be with us," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly. "So that we would talk to Ginny again."

Ron nodded slowly.

"And zat was before Ginny got into zis—coma?" Fleur asked hesitantly.

Ron nodded again. "I'm guessing that… after the argument… she just kind of… wandered. And she doesn't know this place yet, so… she wandered right into an enchanted room. A vault, actually," he amended. "A ghost tipped me off right after I found Malfoy's letter, and I went and found her." He shrugged.

"Have you tried contacting Malfoy yet?" Bill asked. "Surely he would come back, if he knew?"

Ron turned to him. "I wrote a letter, but I didn't know where to send it. I just figured I would ask Ginny when she woke up."

Harry made a sound then, like a hiss of anger. Everyone looked at him.

"What?" asked Ron, raising his eyebrows.

Harry sighed. "Don't you get it? If Ginny wakes up and…" He faltered. "When Ginny wakes up, she's going to want to see Draco right away, and when she finds out Draco's gone… in her weakened state, who knows what will happen." He looked straight at Ron. "It could kill her."

Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue with disbelief. "Now, Harry, I really don't think that—"

Harry turned to her. "She had a baby last week. She's been unconscious all day, and she's under some kind of enchantment. The kind of shock that… that comes when the person you love is gone…" He didn't seem to be able to finish the sentence. He looked down at the floor.

No one could argue with that. They shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to look at Harry. Everyone knew he was speaking from personal experience.

Finally, Ron screwed up the courage to break the awkward silence. "Right," he said. "Well, I guess we should find out a way to locate Draco. I think he's prob—"

His words were cut off when Hermione flung the door open.

"Everyone—come quick—it's Ginny! I think it was Alice—when she cried—Ginny's awake! Come on, she's awake!" She was no longer holding the baby, so she leapt up on Ron and began dragging him from the room.

Bill, Fleur, and Molly sped after them. Harry followed anxiously after everyone else.

_So much for finding Draco._

-&-


End file.
